Wednesday, July 18, 2012

I been framed, yer honor!

About 30 years ago, in the dead of winter, I was a very sick little boy. I had a horrible wasting disease. I could do nothing but lay on the couch and watch TV with a pillow under my head as the worst blizzard in years raged outside.
It was a nasty cold.
Somehow, though the snow was piling against the house, a small squad of ants made their way inside and into our living room. They picked up a discarded purple crayon and, in a great show of teamwork, carried it up the couch, past my face, and proceeded to color on my pillow case. I tried to stop them or at least to cry out an alarm, but in my weakened condition I just couldn't manage.
Then, quick as they came, the ants dropped the crayon and skedaddled back into the bleak winter night.
When my father asked who had colored on my pillow I tried to explain what had happened. He didn't believe me and wrote it down in my Baby Book as "My 1st Lie."
This accusation so shattered my self esteem it sent me on a lifetime spiral of lying, cheating and petty theft.*

*    *    *    *    *

Yesterday morning I was at the computer, doing my daily job searching, and my daughter was in the kitchen rustling around.  She came quickly back out to the living room and plopped down to watch Elmo or Super Why! or whatever.
A little later I went back to the coffee maker to refill my mug and noticed that a cup of melted ice and tea remnants had been spilled across the kitchen table. 
I confronted my daughter, "What happened?"
"Did you knock over the tea?"
"No? Who did then?"
"....a dog."
"A dog?" She nods. "You're saying a dog came into our house, jumped on the kitchen table, knocked over the tea and then ran back out?"
"...a small dog."

Needless to say, though we don't have a baby book, I'm sharing this story with the entire internet. I've shattered her self esteem and am sending her on a spiral of shame and degradation... 
...or I showed her that I'm not buying her crap anymore than my dad bought mine. 

*ok, not really, but it sounds more fun that way. I'm a good boy, honest!

Monday, July 2, 2012

I'm the baby, gotta love me!

I've seen it happen on TV and heard about it through other parents, but I'd hoped it wouldn't happen to us. It has.

When you have a kid who's just out of toddlerhood (like ours) and are expecting another one soon, sometimes your kid can have some infantile regression issues. They wanna be the baby just that much longer.

They've spent 3 years growing and learning and being proud of the things they can do for themselves and suddenly they just want to whine and suck a nük and all that. She's dry all night and then she's willfully peeing in her Pull-Ups when she gets up.
She is finally big enough to help put things away in the fridge, but she refuses to feed herself.
It's a magical time. (barf)

Well, a couple months ago a well meaning friend of ours (who's a mommy blogger and is inundated with free stuff) gave us a fancy-pants bottle for the new baby. It bounced around the back seat of my wife's car for a while until our daughter found it.

For a while she used it to feed her baby doll, until the regression kicked in about a week ago. Suddenly she's sucking on it and pretending to be the baby again.

It stayed in the car until yesterday when I brought it into the house fully intending to throw it out. Somehow our daughter convinced us to even put water in it so she could drink from it. (Sometimes you 're so blinded by whining and pestering you do dumb things. You gotta pick your battles.) She proceeded to pop the nipple off and spill the water all over her floor. Lesson learned.

When she went to bed last night I put the bottle on the top of my desk, again, intending to throw it out.

I forgot.

This morning, soon as she got up, she was asking for it. When she saw it on the desk the whining amped up even higher. This was getting to be a problem. She'd run around with it hanging from her mouth like a dog with a raggedy chew toy.  How the hell was I going to get rid of this thing without traumatizing her even more?

So, this afternoon, I'm sitting at my desk and hear her at her potty. Knowing the signs point to "poopy" I intercept her (bottle in mouth) and redirect her into the bathroom to perform the proper "post-potty cleanup."  She dances ahead of me, shaking the bottle in her teeth like a proud lioness with a gazelle... the nipple slips...


...the bottle drops right into the toilet.

"Whelp, there that goes," I said, pulling it out of the bowl.

"But you got it out!"

"Nope. Into the trash."

"It'll dry off."

"Yes, and then it will have dried potty water on it. Into the trash."

"Oh. Ok." And she scampered off totally over it.

I pat myself on the back for solving that problem so easily. Parenting is easy.